Don't Eat the Fairy Food
by RemiScarlet58
Summary: They told him never to go into the forest, and especially not to eat anything offered to him by a fairy-type. But it couldn't be that bad, right? This is a series of one-shots dedicated to the darker sides of Pokemon, based on their Pokedex entries. Requests are gladly accepted.
1. Don't Eat the Fairy Food

Behind his new house lay a thick, menacing forest. He was told that fairies dwelled within.

It was told that they danced in the moonlight and held endless parties—but they were vicious creatures that loved to lead humans astray. Everyone knew not to eat anything offered to them by a fairy-type, lest you never wanted to be seen again.

Some humans were braver—or insane, others would say—and captured fairies of their own. However, while the fairies acted tame enough, their human masters never seemed quite right afterward. Their eyes ceased to reflect the life within, and when they spoke it was almost as if it was the fairy speaking instead.

Everyone agreed it was best to stay away from them. They put out bowls of milk on the doorstep at night in an effort to appease the wicked Pokemon. Each morning, not a drop would be left in the bowl. It seemed the fairies acknowledged the unspoken agreement. Milk in exchange for relative peace. It was a simple treaty, and for the most part the village honored it.

But every so often, someone would be foolish enough to wander into the forest, where Togetics and Floettes and other fairies lived.

Those who entered were rarely seen again. The few who managed to survive could not tell what they had endured, for their minds had been completely broken. They had been reduced to whimpering simpletons.

When he and his mother moved here a few days ago, they were told never to enter the forest no matter what. If a toy rolled past the treeline, or if they heard voices coming from inside, they were to ignore it and go back inside immediately.

Sometimes, after a truck or ball accidentally rolled into the forest, he could hear faint human voices telling him to fetch his belongings, that it was okay, he would be safe. The voices were very gentle and hypnotic, and there were plenty of times that he found himself starting to walk towards the forest. A neighbor always managed to stop him in time, for he was too young to grasp the danger that lay in the forest.

* * *

One day, he was playing near the top of the hill. He was trying to see how quickly he could roll down the steep slope. Over and over again he would roll down the hill, then race back up and repeat the action. After a few go-arounds, he paused at the foot of the hill, feeling rather dizzy and ill. Perhaps it was time to go back inside, before he hurt himself.

As he got up, he heard a Pokemon's scream come from deep within the forest. He stopped, looking at the thick tangle of bushes and trees that marked the beginning of the forest. That cry had been genuine; it could not have been some fairy illusion.

Another scream came from the forest, sending up a murder of Murkrows up into the sky.

He hesitated. He'd been told by the neighbors not to go inside the forest, yet he couldn't ignore the cry for help. He was torn between obeying the neighbors or doing the right thing.

He decided he was going to help the poor Pokemon in need, in the end. There were paths in the forest, so he wouldn't get lost. It was around lunchtime, too, and he'd been told the fairies were most active during the night anyway. He should be safe from them, if he was quick and didn't dally.

He imagined coming out of the forest, with the injured Pokemon in tow. Everyone would marvel at how brave and strong he was, to have gone into the forest and return with his mind intact. He'd be a hero! Besides, the fairies would understand why he came into their forest. He was only trying to help an injured Pokemon, after all. He meant no harm. The people who lost their minds had probably been trying to hurt them, and they had to defend themselves.

He summoned up his courage, and bravely took a step inside the forest. He pushed through ferns and thickets as tall as he was, and let out a breath he did not know he had been holding.

A path was just up ahead.

Yet another scream came from deep within. He hurried towards the source of the sound, ever watchful for fairies and other threats. Other Pokemon besides the fairies lived in the forest as well. It wouldn't do to be eaten by an Ursaring before helping the injured Pokemon.

The screams began to turn into pitiful, drawn-out moans. He quickened his pace, heading deeper and deeper towards the sound of the voice.

Finally, he came to the injured Pokemon.

It was a Sylveon, lying on its side next to a steep cliff. There was a long gash along its right forepaw, probably after tumbling down the slope.

It looked up at him, mewing pitifully. There was absolutely no trace of malice in its gaze, only pain and a silent cry for help.

He hesitated. There was a _fairy_ , right in front of him. He'd been told it was an evil creature, something to be shunned. And yet...it was injured. It was probably going to die if it didn't get its leg treated, either from infection or by being eaten by another Pokemon drawn to the scent of blood.

His pity won out, in the end. He cautiously approached the moaning Sylveon, looking around for something to use to bind its wound.

He grabbed a few soft leaves and some tall grass, and made a crude and clumsily-built tourniquet around its leg.

The Sylveon tentatively got up, gingerly testing its leg against the ground. It hobbled forward a few steps, then, seeing that it could walk again, let out a joyful cry and rubbed up against his hand, purring intensely. He patted its head, thrilled that he managed to befriend an actual fairy.

The Sylveon limped forward, then turned its head back to him, as if beckoning for him to follow. He shook his head, saying that he had to go home. But when he turned to follow the path back home, it was nowhere to be found.

He began to grow frightened. Where was the path? It had been there just a few seconds ago…

The Sylveon nudged the backs of his legs, then limped forward a few steps before stopping and looking back at him again. One of its ribbony feelers waggled back and forth in a clear "follow me" gesture. He hesitated, but the look in its eyes said that it would lead him back home. It had a gentle, endearing expression, one that was full of gratitude and a wish to reciprocate his kind favor. There was absolutely no trace of malice in its gaze.

In the end, he decided to follow it. It knew the forest much better than he did, after all. The pink fairy led him through the forest, through thickets, across streams, and down gentle slopes.

Finally, they stopped in front of a large clearing. He gasped in wonder. There had to be at least a hundred fairies in the clearing, all dancing and laughing. Flabébés, Swirlixes, and many more that he did not recognize were right in front of him. He'd never seen so many fairies in one place before. The sight was breathtaking, almost intoxicating. But why had he been brought here?

He heard the Sylveon mew, and he looked down to see that it was offering him an Oran Berry. There was a big smile on its face, as if to say 'Thank you! This is for you'. He declined the berry, remembering the one thing the neighbors had warned him above all else: don't eat food offered to you by a fairy.

The Sylveon drooped, and tears came to its eyes. He instantly felt horrible. It was just trying to repay him, and here he was being rude and refusing its gift. He heard a sound coming from the clearing, and he saw that all of the other fairies were staring at him. They were encouraging him to eat the berry, not to be rude, that Sylveon was just trying to be friendly.

He shook his head again, albeit more reluctantly this time. The fairies were making him feel awfully guilty about refusing the berry. How could eating just one small berry be so harmful, anyway? Oran Berries were medicinal berries; eating one would be good, not bad. Perhaps the neighbors were just being stuck-up and not wanting to see the kindness in the fairies' gestures.

Yes, the fairies in the clearing agreed. The other humans were mean people who hated them for no reason. The fairies would try to befriend the humans, but the humans absolutely refused. Was he going to be like all the other humans and refuse their friendship?

No, he decided as he took the Oran Berry and took a bite big out of it. The Sylveon's eyes lit up, and it rubbed all up against his legs, purring intensely. The other fairies cheered, and as he looked back to them he saw now that there were other human children with the fairies too. The children were smiling and laughing, beckoning him to join them in their reverie.

With a big smile, he ran into the clearing, where he danced with the children and the fairies.

He never wanted to go home.

 _This_ was his home now.


	2. Go Towards the Light

With a mighty crack, lightning flashed downwards and struck a tall oak, almost indistinguishable in the darkness of the night. The surrounding area was illuminated, so brightly that for a split second the forest became as bright as midday. The brilliant light died, but was replaced by the orange flicker of flames as the burnt tree was set aflame. The flames died soon as well, for the merciless torrent of rain ensured that no fire could ever hope to be given the gift of life here, at least for the time being.

The traveler clutched her walking stick tightly, pulling the hood of her cloak further down her forehead with her other hand in a vain attempt to keep her head dry. The storm had arrived sooner than she expected, and she had no way to tell where she was or how far it was to the nearest village.

Casting her eyes about, she desperately scanned the area around her, searching the shadows between the endless streaks of rain for any sign of shelter.

Another flash of lightning soared across the sky, and she briefly spotted the silhouette of a small cabin just up ahead.

Feeling relief spread through her weary, aching bones, the traveler quickened her pace. Upon reaching the cabin, she knocked on the door, where it eerily swung open upon the first knock.

The traveler peered inside, calling out a greeting. All was dark inside the cottage, and there was no answering voice.

She hesitated for a moment before hurrying inside, closing the door shut behind her. She managed to find an old, battered lantern sitting on a table during the next flash of lightning. The matches she kept in her pack were slightly damp, and she wasted two before managing to light the third.

The lantern still worked, by some miracle, and as she cast it around her surroundings she noticed that no one had been here in quite some time. A thick layer of dust had settled on everything, and cobwebs had made their home in all corners.

Strangely, though, the cabin was fully furnished. It was as if the owners had vanished without a trace, or abandoned the cottage without a care for the possessions they had left behind.

Still, though, the traveler resolved to leave behind some form of payment when she left. It was the least she could do, even if there was currently no one around to accept her gratitude.

She heard a sound come from the kitchen, and as she turned he could see the faintest light emanating from there. With a mixture of curiosity and wariness she crept into the room, holding the lantern high above her head.

She found a white, candle-like Pokemon sitting on top of an old wood stove, nibbling on a berry. Its body was short and plump, with a piercing yellow eye and a bright purple flame that was the source of the light. The little candle looked up at her approach, and it tilted its head at her.

The traveler smiled, and knelt down, holding out her hand at the little Pokemon. Perhaps it too was hoping to stay out of the storm? The flame on its head would surely be put out if it tried to go outside…

The candle hopped down, slowly and cautiously inching its way to her. It looked at her, her hand, and back at her. It sniffed her hand for a second, and, seemingly pleased by what it smelled, broke into a wide smile.

"Hello," she said as the Pokemon nestled against her knee. "What might you be?"

"Wick!" it replied, looking up at her.

She chuckled. The little Pokemon seemed harmless, and seemed happy about her presence. She was glad, too, to have a companion to wait out the storm with her.

The Pokemon offered her the berry it had been eating, but she declined, saying that she had food in her pack. The dried meat and fruit she carried was a tad soggy, but nourishing all the same. She gave a piece of dried apricot to the Pokemon, who appeared to like the taste.

The two sat there for a few minutes, eating peacefully as they listened to the downpour outside. The traveler breathed an inward sigh of relief that there appeared to be no leaks in the cabin.

After finishing her food, the traveler stood, telling the Pokemon that she was tired. It stood too and followed her into the bedroom. She took off her soaked cloak and boots, and climbed into the queen-sized bed, extinguishing the lantern as she did.

The Pokemon snuggled up against her, smiling deep into her eyes as its flame grew in size just slightly. The traveler smiled back at it, feeling a sudden wave of drowsiness hit her. She wished it goodnight, and closed her eyes.

* * *

The storm had subsided by the time she woke up, and the traveler rose slowly, fighting off a powerful sense of lethargy. Her hands were getting dull and wrinkled, she noticed with a pang of sorrow. She was by no means a young woman anymore, and it appeared her days of traveling were beginning to number.

The candle stirred as she climbed out of bed, its flame rising higher into the air. It chirped happily at her as she pulled back the shutters, letting sunshine into the room.

She ate some of her rations, and left a few coins on the dusty old table in the living room. She donned her cloak, and took her walking stick.

"Thank you for spending the night with me," she told her companion as she opened the door. "But I must be going now."

"Litwick!" her companion cried, racing outside. It pointed a stubby hand towards a few bushes. And as the traveler peered closer she could see the beginnings of a path just beyond the foliage.

It looked up at her, clear meaning in its gaze.

"You wish to guide me?" the traveler asked in surprise. Then she chuckled. "My, you are a sweet little thing. Very well. It would be nice to have your company a little while longer, anyway."

She closed the door to the cabin, and followed the Pokemon down the path. The terrain was level and gentle for the most part, making the journey much more easier for the aged traveler. Every now and then the traveler heard the calls of various Pokemon, most of them belonging to Pidgeys.

As the day wore on into evening, the lethargy that had been plaguing her since morning steadily grew and grew. She held on tighter to her walking stick, which she now clutched with both hands. Hands that shook uncontrollably, gnarled and reduced to just skin over bone. This was not what she had seen this morning. Her walk had turned into a mere shuffle, and all she wanted to do was lie down and take a nap.

"What is happening?" she whispered, her voice a mere croak as she stopped. She stood there, hunched over her walking stick, for it was the only thing right now keeping her from collapsing.

"Wick?" her companion turned around, tilting its head to stare at her in confusion. Its flame had been steadily growing throughout the day, and was currently three feet tall.

"Something's wrong," the traveler continued, staring up at her grey, lifeless hands.

She lost her balance, and with a cry she collapsed onto the ground . Her long hair flew everywhere, and with horror she saw that it had gone completely white, when only this morning it had been a deep brown. She felt fear begin to flicker in her heart, and a giggle made her look up.

Her Pokemon companion was standing in front of her, a wicked grin on its face. Desperately, the traveler reached out a trembling hand towards it. Its flame grew even higher, and she felt the last of her strength leave her body. Her arm flopped uselessly to the ground like a discarded ragdoll.

"You...You're doing this," she whispered in horror, as she realized what had been happening to her. This creature, it was leeching the life out of her!

She tried to stand, but could only twitch uselessly. She was so tired now, so _so_ tired. Her eyelids drooped, and she fought desperately to stay awake.

But, in the end, they closed.


	3. No Price is Too High

The Gardevoir stood next to her king as he received the latest reports of the siege from a battered soldier. His apprehension had already been prickling at her like an insatiable itch, but as the soldier continued his narrative she felt his tension give way to true fear.

Her beloved friend's kingdom was losing the battle. A rival nation sought their own, and while the king's forces were certainly putting up a fight, both the king and his Gardevoir knew it was only a matter of minutes before the enemies reached the castle.

His fear—masked underneath a neutral facial expression perfected over decades—washed over her like the waves of an ocean. She flinched, for her friend's fear was more akin to the ocean during a storm than the gentle caresses of the off season.

Her king saw, and dismissed everyone from his throne room. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder, false reassurance in his eyes.

"It will be alright, my old friend. We will survive this onslaught," he said to her, though they both knew he was lying.

But the Gardevoir put a wan smile on her face for him. She couldn't bear to let him see her in distress, especially when he was the cause. If she could put on a brave face, then perhaps her confidence would ease his fear.

Her smile had a slight effect, and she felt some of his tension relax. She embraced her friend, and felt his platonic love for her bloom in her heart. She closed her eyes, drinking in the strength of their bond. She'd been by his side ever since he was a child. She'd been a gift for his sixth nameday, and they had immediately become the best of friends. They'd been through everything together: economic hardship, revolutions, family illness; the two always supported each other, and never hindered.

They heard a crashing sound from deep below, and the floor shook ever so slightly. The golden chandelier above the throne swayed gently, the flames in the candles flickering ominously.

The Gardevoir squeezed the king's hand as he roared for a report.

One of the palace guards and his Glameow rushed in, bowing in front of the king and his Gardevoir.

"The front gate has been breached, My Lord. The enemy is approaching the West Hall," the guard reported in a rush, not meeting his king's eyes. His Glameow's tail was firmly tucked under her legs, and the fur on her neck was raised.

The stormy waves returned, and the king sucked in a breath. "What do their forces look like, and how do they compare to ours?"

"I…" the guard hesitated, and both the king and the Gardevoir knew they would not like the answer.

"Speak!" the king commanded in a well-practiced tone that brooked no argument.

"Their party has taken significant losses, my king, but…they have a Pokemon with them, a Bisharp. It's…cutting us all down to ribbons. It…probably won't be long before it reaches the throne room. Sire," the guard added hastily at the end.

The king sat back, and the Gardevoir did not have to use her empathy link to know that her friend was worried. Worried, and rapidly making and discarding decisions.

"…I see. Send every remaining fire- and fighting-type available to the enemy's current location. Block their advance, and should that fail, then I want all soldiers outside of this room. Defend the throne to your deaths, and give them no quarter," the king said grimly at last.

The guard and his Glameow stood. "Yes sir!"

Once they were alone again, the Gardevoir closed her eyes. There was a small chance the enemy would be stopped before they reached the room, but her instincts were telling her that the fight would eventually be brought here. She could see herself fighting against the enemy's deadly Bisharp, but the outcome?

She couldn't predict the outcome. She opened her eyes, and straightened her body. Whatever happened, she would do as she must.

As she predicted, the sounds of skirmish soon rang beyond the golden doors to the throne room. The ring of sword clashing against armor was mixed with the sounds of screams—both human and Pokemon. The king tensed, and drew his sword, placing it on his lap. The Gardevoir took his hand in hers, and together they stared at the doors with an agonized plea for their troops to win.

After a few minutes, all was eerily silent beyond the room. Then as quickly as the silence came, it was replaced with a boom as the doors were thrust open, and the remnants of the enemy burst in.

Only about two scores of the enemy's soldiers remained, including their Pokemon. But if this little party was all that was left, then the king's entire army had to have been completely annihilated.

"Give up!" one of the enemy soldiers snarled as a Bisharp lumbered in. Its bladed arms were dripping with dark red blood, and there was an evil, hungry glint in its beady eyes.

The king stood to meet the crowd, but the Gardevoir moved in front of him, facing the Bisharp.

"Dear friend, no! I beg you!" the king cried out as the Bisharp rushed for her.

Its arms were raised high, meant to slice her head right off her neck. But she moved out of the way, using her psychic powers to ensnare the Pokemon that dared to threaten her king. The Bisharp shrugged off the psychic hold, immune to her effect. It lunged again, its arms enveloped in an aura black as night.

She was too slow to move, and its blades cruelly dug into her torso. She cried in pain, stumbling for a split second. But she recovered quickly, and drew in power from the moon. The lunar strength coalesced into a ball, and she hurled it at her foe. It didn't bother evading, and again shrugged off the attack.

This time, her fear was her own, and she desperately tried to come up with a way to stop this powerful foe.

Again, the Bisharp lunged, hacking at slashing at her body with a whirlwind of cuts and swipes. She evaded as best as she could and tried to return the blows, but none of her attacks phased the Bisharp in any way.

Finally, after taking a brutal cut to her chest, she fell to the ground, breathing raggedly. Her body felt like it was on fire, but the horror coming from the king hurt worst of all. She tried to get up, to reach out, to say she was okay, but her body refused to move. She lay there, motionless and bleeding on the polished marble floor.

"Pathetic. Goodbye, old man," she heard the enemy general say. The rest of the army had stood back to watch the Pokemon fight, and now they were advancing on her old, trembling friend.

No.

She would not let them kill him. Not while she still lived.

The Gardevoir stood, calling forth the very last of her power. The enemy paused at her sudden movement, having thought she was done for. But no, here she stood, a violet aura rising from her as she willed the world to rip apart.

She reached deep within the confines of space, forcing the space the enemy soldiers were in to bend, to tear, to distort. She put forth all her psychic power into her will, and cracks appeared along the walls and floors as a small black hole appeared in the center of the crowd.

She stood, numb with rage, watching dispassionately as humans and Pokemon were slowly sucked into the hole. The black hole was only about the size of an orange, yet it pulled in _everything_ ; humans, Pokemon, parts of the castle…

The bodies of the enemy forces contorted into unnatural shapes in order to fit inside the hole. The Bisharp snarled, trying to lunge for the Gardevoir, but the gravitational pull of the black hole was too powerful. It too was forced into an orange-shaped hole, and at last the threat was over. No other enemies remained.

Having used up the last of her power, the Gardevoir crumpled to the floor as the black hole disappeared. Her king had been out of the black hole's pull, and he knelt down beside her with tears in his eyes. He shook her, and said something, but she could not hear him. She closed her eyes, and smiled weakly. She was cold now, but was not bothered by it, nor was she afraid of what was to come. Her lifelong friend was still alive, and that was all that mattered.

For no price was too high.


End file.
